Confidence(s)
by Badfluffy
Summary: Kalinda's past comes back to haunt her. She needs someone to trust but can she afford full disclosure?


**Confidence(s)**

_Notes and Disclaimer: I wrote the first two chapters of this fic between season 1 and season 2 when challenged by a friend to write about Kalinda's past. When info started coming about Kalinda's husband last summer, I was amused by the similarities and decided to keep writing my own version of events. I went ahead with my idea. I have not read spoilers, watched promos or anything so this is not canon. I only wrote a brief prologue to bridge the season 3 finale and my first chapters. I also rewrote Alicia/Kalinda content to reflect some of the unfortunate changes that took place since then._

_You know the drill. They belong to the Kings. If they belonged to me, they'd be happier. Well, maybe not, but I'd be rich and famous._

_Comments and reviews are appreciated. Flames will be used on Cary (for being such a jerk for two seasons, hopefully not in season 4 and certainly not in this fic! Season 1 Cary is back, baby!)_

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**Prologue**

Darkness surrounded her, save for the city lights bleeding through the blinds behind her, and the narrow crack of light seeping in from the hallway, framing the door in front of her. That's where her eyes were focused. Unblinking. Waiting.

She was sitting straight in the most comfortable chair she owned, the cozy armchair, the one that never got used. Her arms crossed. One leg over the other. The gun loaded and armed, invisible, tucked away safely at her side. To an unfamiliar eye, she would appear remote, indifferent, detached even. Unaffected. In control.

That had been so important to her. Slick, cool, efficient Kalinda. Emotions never on display. Buried deep. Or at least covered enough they can't be seen. Like her scars. You can't be hurt if they don't know where to poke. Untouchable. Flawless.

Or maybe it had been all in preparation for that day. _This_ day. At last. Maybe if she worked hard enough at looking in control to everyone else, it would work with him too. She knew now he wouldn't be fooled. He knew better, and so did she. The tension in her back was already sending spasms of pain through her muscles and tremors in her fingers. Her palms were sweaty. Through her casually crossed arms, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her breath, shallow and uneven. He wasn't back in her life yet and already she was feeling her control slip. Unsteady. Off balance.

She shook herself. She was Kalinda Sharma. Things would be the same only if she allowed them to be. They were different now. She was different. Whatever was going to happen would happen on her own terms. No more running. Time to face her past. End of the line. That's why she hadn't run… wasn't it?

She was taking a deep calming breath when the light disappeared around the door. Footsteps in the hallway. Her hand flew to her gun.

The door was unlocked. No point in pretending a locked door would be any kind of challenge to him. Picking it would barely slow him down. He'd taught her that.

Three knocks on the door. Not a request. Slow and heavy, like a warning.

Eyes on the door handle now. She resisted the urge to tighten her grip on the gun. Memories flooded her. _Not too hard. Like you hold a lover. Relax your muscles. Breathe_. He'd taught her that too. She tried not to think of that day. It would make things easier if she had to shoot.

She was poised, willing herself to be still, adrenaline rushing through her, her jaw clenched, her whole body tensed, like a feline about to pounce.

The handle trembled slightly. She could almost feel the heat of his fingers on it. So close now. She felt like screaming. _Come on! Make your move! Time to end this!_ Instead she bit her lower lip and waited. And waited. It felt like an hour but it could only have been a minute or two before she realized his hand had left the handle. The shadow on her door replaced by the bright hallway light. Footsteps moving away from her.

Unwillingly, she felt the tension leave her body. She knew she was alone again. Still, the gun was in her still shaking hand as she approached the door cautiously, on the balls of her feet, stealth like a cat, the heels of her boots never touching the ground. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for… what? A heartbeat over her own? Whatever she was hoping to hear wasn't there. Only silence, the pulsing vibration of the neon lights, the AC. She put her hand on the handle and turned. It was colder than she expected, as if his hand had never even touched it. As if he was a ghost. As if she had dreamed the whole thing.

The hinges cringed as she pulled the door open slowly, deliberately, positioning herself so that she wouldn't get caught by it, should he kicked it open. But nothing happened. Again. The hallway was empty. _Was he even here?_ She listened only sound was her labored breathing. She inhaled deeply to calm herself and froze. He had left nothing behind but a faint trace of cologne.

Her head was shaking from side to side almost imperceptibly. She had failed to anticipate him again. Why had he left? Why come at all? Panic was rising in her. _Get a grip! Stop it! Breathe. Focus. What would you have done?_ She felt a sudden clarity. She rolled her eyes and chuckled. That was so much like him. She should have known.

He came to deliver a message. He knew where she was. No place was safe anymore. Nowhere left to hide. He could get to her any time he felt like it. On his own terms. When and where she least expected it. She'd have to be on her guards everywhere, all the time. He wanted her to be afraid. Of course, she'd have to disappoint him on that.

As she stepped back into her apartment, she felt something on the carpet and looked down to see a familiar shape cut from a piece of paper. She couldn't help but smile as she picked it up and closed the door behind her. _Let the mind games begin._

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_TBC...  
_


End file.
